iCarly: Devil's Due
by Nitebreaker
Summary: Carly isn't the only one with an unusual...acquaintance. Unfortunately for Sam, this boy might easily be the absolute worst choice in all Creation. The rating could change, with time..
1. Chapter 1

_iCarly: Devil's Due_

…

 _I don't own iCarly…but it's a fun concept. Had to play a bit with the ages and years. So what else is new?_

 _Maybe an AU. I'll find a place to fit this in later. Maybe._

…

 _Devil's Due, Chapter 1: Don't Talk to Strangers_

… _._

 _The year is 1999. The city is Seattle, Washington, Planet Earth, 3_ _rd_ _Age, Millennium 2.0. I walk into the building that houses the human children, and sees to their education. I am directed to my classroom by an impertinent human adult whom I fantasize about punishing for his lack of manners. He could do quite well with just nine fingers; many humans have lost whole arms. I enter the room indicated, and simply find an empty seat and sit. I understand later I was supposed to be introduced to the class, but honestly, I'd rather forego such nonsense. It's not like I'm going to be here long enough for anyone to have any business knowing my name, anyway._

 _Their educational process is primitive, of course. Someday, they'll come up with something better, but for now, I suppose this serves the purpose._

 _My uncle has left me here, while he attends to certain business matters here in the mortal world. He has every confidence that I can handle myself, has left me with only a few simple instructions, none of which I really needed to hear._

 _As I implied, my people's method of education is…let's just say, somewhat more advanced._

 _It's a challenge to just sit through the insipid human instructor's interminable speech. She's wrong about several things anyway, and I have to refrain from correcting her. I wonder if she'll ever shut up, then have to stifle a grin. Of course she will….when she's dead. I remember that scene, even though it hasn't happened yet, stopping by to see her lifeless body in its casket. Finally finished talking, did you? I suppress the hilarity I feel, both then and now, however. No matter how entertaining her funeral is, no true benefit would be accomplished by me laughing out loud. And my sort are practical beings, after all._

 _Recess: ah, finally. Release from within that desultory prison. Yet am I cognizant of the very real possibility that my uncle has not left me here by mere accident. Perhaps I am to take away some valuable experience from this debacle. And my kind live for experience._

 _Without any real direction, I follow the trail of emotion and wander over to a group of immature humans playing some primitive game involving weighted sticks and a leather-wrapped ball. I suppress a snort of derision. Not even any contact? Why couldn't they have hunting classes here? I could get into that. But this? Please._

" _Hey!" I turn, realizing I am being addressed, albeit impudently, as seems to be the norm here in this world. It's no wonder their social order is on the verge of collapse. "You wanna play?"_

 _I almost say,_ not like that, _before I remember I am supposed to keep a low profile. It just wouldn't do for the humans, even these immature ones, to recognize the predator in their midst._

 _And to this end, my eyes are carefully cloaked by an illusion no human power can penetrate. For should someone look into my eyes without that illusion…._

 _They would see me for what I truly am._

 _I am what humans would call a demon._

 _I remember watching the human movie, "The Exorcist." It was an incredibly funny experience. Humans actually think we operate like that? Of course, it was a bit uplifting, even if a trifle overdone, to see (well, actually, to imagine) the misery "we" had brought upon the human girl Regan, even if it was totally fictitious. Humans have such a naïve approach to such things as Eternity._

 _But while simply causing distress and misery is enjoyable, to a degree, there must be some point to the whole matter. Otherwise, it's really no more than what some humans have called "horror porn." Simple horror, the destruction of the flesh, the torture of the mind, for no purpose. And ultimately unsatisfying. Like eating the icing off a cake and not the cake itself._

 _Yet humans themselves seem to be inordinately fond of such "horror porn," as is evidenced by the recent spate of movies and television shows mostly dealing with ever-more graphic violence and "implied" scenes in which members of their species—usually females, of course-are tormented in ever more explicit scenes. I guess nobody makes the connection between the attraction of such movies, the human drive to protect the half of the species that bears offspring, and the never-to-be-sufficiently-filled money purses of those who produce them._

 _Or perhaps they do. I don't really care._

 _All this goes through my minds in less than a second, while the immature human stands in front of me, still waiting for an answer to his question. My first inclination is to snort and turn away, but that would show no style, no class._

 _It would be better to have some fun with him, first._

" _I….might," I say. "What game is this, anyway?"_

 _He gapes at me. "What game? This is baseball! What planet are you from?"_

 _If only you knew. "We don't have this game where I come from," I tell him. Which is true. "So I don't know how it's played. What, do you hit that ball with this?" I indicate the bat. Of course I know what it is. I remember from my future self._

 _His eyes shift in what I'm sure he thinks is a crafty way. He plans to take the "newbie" into the realm of painful experience. Hm. With a little training, he could make an adequate low-level demon. However, it's true he'd never amount to much. No strategic sense. "Yeah, you stand right there," he shows me a spot, "and you try to hit the ball when it's thrown at ya. Here." He hands me the bat, and makes a signal to the pitcher. He thinks I don't know what he's just signaled for. I'll let him think that…for now. "Just give it a try."_

 _This day has been an education for me in learning how to suppress my expressions, so as not to give away too much, too soon. "Alright." I deliberately handle the bat a bit clumsily._

 _The pitcher winds up, and throws what I'm sure he thinks is a terrific pitch—straight at my face. And I grasp at time, in the non-Euclidean way my sort can, and it slows to a crawl._

 _I step to one side, and with the strength of one of my kind, I swing the bat._ _Whack!_ _The ball is sent careening up and completely out of the schoolyard playground, completely missing the ball trap at the corner of the diamond. The others watch in open-mouthed astonishment as it passes beyond sight._

 _I step back to the boy who initially thought he was conning me into getting a ball in the face. "Doesn't seem so hard," I say, handing him the bat back. "But it's not for me." I walk off._

" _Hey!" He calls to me. I restrain the impulse to impress upon him, somewhat forcefully, that my name is_ _not_ _"Hey." "What about our ball?"_

 _I shrug. "I was told we aren't supposed to leave the playground," I reply. "There's nothing I can do about your ball." And I turn and walk off._

 _The air of unhappiness is somewhat enjoyable. My sort enjoy human emotions greatly, and the easiest to produce are the negative ones. That doesn't preclude our enjoyment of pleasurable ones; it's just that some of us, I guess you'd say, "specialize." Usually, it's the laziest ones. I like to think I'm not one of those. Still, waste not, want not._

 _I sit on the steps behind the main building, drinking in the sensation of_ _disappointment_ _from the young humans. They'd intended worse for me, so, even if I were capable of feeling guilt, I wouldn't. But…that is not the only emotion I am sensing. At first, I pay it no attention._

" _That was some hit," says a voice behind me. I turn and look._

 _The speaker is a blond girl, with naturally curly hair falling to her shoulders. Her pretty face is illuminated by a pair of blue eyes, the entire array making for a quite attractive girl, by human standards, and one that is studying me intently. "You really hit it outta the park."_

" _Yes." I wonder what the point of this conversation is. Yes, I did. And?_

" _You never played before?"_

" _Never." One of my future selves has some memories of a time in 2018 when I played, for a reason I shan't share just yet. But that has not happened yet, here in this universe._

" _You're a natural. Maybe you should try out for the team."_

" _I'm not interested." Where is Uncle Darien? I hate being so tied to linear time like this. I'm ready to go._

 _She sits down beside me, as though I had asked her to, or given her permission. Oh, well, if the silly girl's going to pester me, I suppose I can pester her right back. "Games like that don't really interest me." I'm far more interested in much more intricate games requiring centuries to complete._

" _Well, I love 'em. But the guys won't let me on the team."_

 _Completely against my will, I'm getting drawn into this conversation. "Really? Why not?" I lean back, my elbows on the steps behind me._

"' _Cause I'm a girl. And I'm good at it. And nobody wants to get beaten by a girl." She draws her knees up to her chin, staring out at the playground._

" _What difference would that make?" I'm honestly puzzled. Beaten is beaten. Doesn't matter by whom._

 _She looks at me oddly. "You really_ _are_ _from another planet." Try another universe, I think. "_ _No_ _body, no boy, wants it getting known that he got whipped by a girl."_

" _If you say so," I muse, not really interested in this conversation. I wonder why the silly girl has singled me out. And why she won't go away and leave me alone. Is she_ _flirting_ _with me? I hope not._

 _I take another look at her, this time seeing her as only I can. Hers is a beautiful soul, true….but to my surprise, I note several lines of potential emanating upward from her head, and curving downward._

 _Into Darkness._

 _In that moment, I make what I already know to be an ill-fated decision, but the sort my kind are justifiably famous for. I want her soul. I want to have it, to hold it, as my very own, forever. I want to start a collection, with her as the first. My very first. I want to cuddle it, to slather it with my attention, to drink in the life of Forever, of experience, emotion, and feeling. But the only way I will ever have her soul, is if she gives it to me, freely and voluntarily, knowing who and what I am, and knowing what she is doing. That takes some effort. But anything worth having…._

 _But if her soul is lost to Darkness, it is lost to me. Therefore, that will not happen._

 _I will have her soul. Somehow. No matter what it takes._

" _I'm Sam, by the way." She sticks her hand out to me, in a standard human handshake. "Sam Puckett." I return it, all the while wondering exactly how to respond._

 _Again, one of my future selves supplies the answer. "I'm Devlin. Devlin Bendarian."_

 _At that moment, we hear the screams coming from the alley. "Mad dog! Look out!"_

 _We both turn, still sitting on the steps there. The dog is coming our way, and even to human perception, it is obviously terminally tainted by rabies, its mouth foaming, its eyes glazed over, not really seeing anything of the world it once knew. The creature's brain has been eaten away by the virus, and now the body of the dog serves only as a means of propagating the disease. It is beyond recovery._

 _I make an instant decision. I am in no danger, of course, but Sam is. While it is true there is a treatment for this disease, still, it is still life-threatening. I can only have her soul if she continues to live long enough to give it to me. "Get behind me!" I order._

" _What? Dev, come_ _on!_ _" She tries to pull me by the arm. "We've gotta get outta here!"_

 _But the dog could overtake Sam. "Just do as I say!" I snap. "And_ _stay_ _behind me!" The command in my voice hits her like a physical blow, and I sweep her behind me. There is no one in front of me. Good._

 _I close my eyes momentarily, and deliberately drop the masking illusion that gives my eyes their normal seeming appearance. Then I open them. I look upon the dog, the vehicle by which the disease propagates now, and look it fully in the eyes._

 _Nothing that lives, nothing that has any spark of soul, spirit, or any measure of life whatsoever can look upon the unshielded eyes of one of my kind, and continue to live._

 _The dog freezes instantly, the blood vessels in its brain bursting, its heart exploding, its limbs spasming and locking in awkward positions. The virus, too, within the animal "sees" me, knows what I truly am…and dies. I hope it dies in pain, but it's only a virus._

 _I quickly close my eyes and re-establish the masking illusion. It just wouldn't do to glance around and have humans drop like flies in front me. One must observe simple courtesy, of course. It shows style._

 _I turn back to Sam. "Are you alright?" I hope I sound solicitous enough but not too much. I already know she's alright._

 _She's looking at me strangely. Maybe, maybe if she sees me in a heroic light, it will make the acquisition of her soul all the easier…but I don't want to overdo it. Just a little finesse… "Devlin, what did you just do?"_

" _Me? Nothing." I cast a glance over my shoulder at the body of the dog. "It just dropped dead."_

" _You…you were about to take on a rabid dog…to save me?"_

" _Well, yes."_

 _What comes next is a complete surprise, to me and to all my future selves. She slaps me, and open-handed blow that would fell an ordinary human of my seeming age. She's obviously quite strong. "_ _Don't_ _," she says in a low, dangerous voice, "fight my battles for me! I don't need a Mr. Hero!" With that, she turns and rushes into the main building, even as animal control agents belatedly converge on the scene. I imagine they'll want some answers, of some sort, though what they'd hope to get from what appears to be an eight-year old boy is problematical._

 _My gaze followers her as she disappears into the hallways. I feel my jaw. Still attached to my head, it is. I smile, wiping the back of my hand across my jawline. Playing with my prey always makes me more appreciative of the game. "I like you even more," I respond to Sam's receding figure._

" _And I_ _will_ _have your soul."_

 _To be continued…?_


	2. Chapter 2: Pursuit, Part 1

iCarly: Devil's Due, Chapter 2: Pursuit, Part 1

….

 _I don't own iCarly. And Devlin doesn't own Sam. Yet._

…

Devil's Due, Chapter 2: Pursuit, Part 1

 _I continue watching Sam over the next few years. I see her friendship with Carly and I see how she gets in and out of trouble with the humans' law, including spending some time in reform school. I sigh when I see all that. Her friend is a most helpful influence, but Sam really could manage her life a little better. That's the problem with young humans: they have such a hard time mastering their own emotions. Just following a few of the simplest rules is sometimes beyond them._

 _I could be a much better friend to her than Carly. I will be a much better friend to her than Carly._

 _From my vantage point in my home universe, I select the appropriate time for our next encounter…._

Reform school. Juvie. Yeah, right. Like the whole thing was her fault in the first place. The guy had been just _asking_ for it, practically _begging_ for it, but _he_ hadda go and have the connections, through his parents, with the court system. So she took the fall. Of course.

Well, reform school wasn't all that much different from regular school, she guessed. A lot stricter, but of course. They were all _troublemakers!_ _Juvenile delinquents!_ So they had to be watched, kept away from everybody else's precious little darlings.

Sam sighed. Gym class was coming up next, so she went into the girls' shower and changed. Came out onto the basketball court, joining the throng of girls. At least this evening was visitation, so that was something to look forward to…if her mother took the time and trouble to show up. Which she probably wouldn't. "Girls, pay attention," said the instructor, "We have a guest coach for this term. I'd like you all to welcome Mr. Devlin Bendarian." And he turned and presented the person next to him.

Sam's mouth fell open. _Dev?_ But…the last time she'd seen him was six years ago, at another school.

But it was unmistakable him. She clearly remembered the sandy blond hair, the straight nose and fine features, the dark brown eyes that always seemed to be laughing...…but he'd grown up so!

He'd grown up into a (dare she think it?) rather…good looking young man.

Good looking? He was eye candy.

"How do you do, girls. You can call me Devlin, or Dev, if you prefer. Now, let's get started with choosing teams…" And he led them through several ever-increasingly difficult sessions, interspersed with brief breaks, stretching, and breathing exercises. He was actually a very good instructor, never asking more of them than they were able to give, but having them test, reach, and, in some cases, exceed their previous limitations.

"Okay, that'll be all for now. Hit the showers, people. We'll do it all over again tomorrow."

For some reason, Sam found herself hanging back as the others headed for hot water. "Devlin?"

"Hey, Sam."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "So you remember me."

He felt his jaw. "You made quite a lasting impression, last time." She could see that hidden laugh just on the other side of his dark brown eyes. It both annoyed her and intrigued her at the same time.

"Yeah….about that…uh. I, I probably, kinda overreacted there." It was that very sort of thing that had landed her in juvie to begin with. Sam was born a fighter, and she had a hunch she'd die that way.

"Well, it _was_ six years ago. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, if you are." He stuck out his hand, which she accepted.

"Thanks. I guess you did develop an interest in sports, after all, huh?" She had her towel around her neck, and was acutely conscious of needing a shower before next class. She really should be getting on, getting ready for the next class. Why wasn't she?

And why was she so concerned about him maybe catching a whiff of her sweaty self? What did she care?

"Sort of. My uncle turned me onto basketball." He spun the basketball on a finger. "Turns out I'm rather good at it, too."

"So you volunteered here? How'd you land a teaching position for a bunch of girls? And…" She looked him over. "You _can't_ be fourteen."

"I'm sixteen. And to answer your other question…I'd applied to work with the boys, but they had someone else for that position. So here I am." He turned, including her in his walk. They were heading towards the exit that led to the showers. "It was always my understanding that only female instructors were assigned to girls' classes, but I suppose somebody, somewhere, must've made an exception. Mind if I ask what happened? With you, I mean. Somehow, this," he gestured at the bare walls of the gym around them, "doesn't seem to suit you very much."

"To hear others tell it, I've a temper."

"You _don't_ say."

"Nobody likes a smartass. And, uh, also, there, uhm, might or might not have been a shoplifting charge. Which I refuse to confirm or deny."

He turned partway towards her, even as they continued to walk. "Shoplifting? You? Really, Sam?"

"On a dare. Never mind; I don't know why I told you that. It's none of your business, anyway."

"You're right, it's not. So, visitation today? I guess you'd best hit the showers. You'll want to be refreshed and ready this afternoon when your family shows up."

They continued to walk, Sam with her head down. She didn't say a word.

"Sam?" He stopped, turning to her. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. Doubt…doubt my mom will be here, is all. My friend Carly will, however."

He studied her downturned features a moment. "So…your mother is…busy?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah. She's _busy_ , alright." She straightened up. "She's _real busy._ "

 _It's almost too easy. I don't even have to use any empathic control. All it takes is just the right words or questions, the proper inflection and tone of voice, the right expression to my face, the correct body language, just like tweaking away at a knot…and all the pain, all the anguish that Sam's feeling, that she's been so carefully hiding, comes gushing out. Were it not for her own iron self-control, she'd be a weeping lump by now. I drink in all that lovely emotion, and almost feel a little giddy. There's so much of it! Careful, Devlin, I tell myself, halfway hearing my uncle's instructive voice in my head as I do so. It wouldn't do to get intoxicated right here in front of her. That would be a bit of a giveaway._ "Well," _I say,_ "I'm sure she'd be here if she could. And you know what? She might be here. She might surprise you."

"Yeah. Yeah, she might," _she says, convinced of just the opposite._ "Well, see you around." And off she goes.

 _My eyes follow her as she turns the corner into the hallway. Yes. I can almost feel her soul right now._

Lights out: "Hey, Sam. How's things with your ' _boy_ friend'?" Louann's voice drifts across the room.

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about."

"Oh, sure! Like nobody's seen the way he pays special attention to you! All those looks, all those talks after practice…yeah, he's _just doing his job,_ I'm _sure."_ In the darkness, Sam can almost see the grin on Louann's face. " _Not!"_

" _Quiet,_ girl!" barks the custodian outside. "Talk tomorrow. Sleep now."

The next day, lunch. Sam spotted Devlin in the lunchroom, sitting in a booth all to himself, intently reading a book. He seemed to be completely unaware of her.

Sam heard a giggle, and a laugh from the other side of the room. Several of her "friends" were seated at a table out in the middle of the floor, practically rolling on the ground with mirth. Of course, they were laughing at her. Sam wondered what Louann could possibly have said to provoke such hilarity. She felt her face flame red.

Whatever it was, she was sure it had something to do with her, and with Dev sitting over on the staff side, intent on his book…and conspicuously alone. Almost as if he was _waiting_ for someone.

Sam felt her blood beginning to boil, and wished she could just stuff Louann's ponytail down her throat. But she was trying to stay on her best behavior…it wouldn't do, this close to discharge, to get into _another_ fight.

On the other hand…Sam smiled humorlessly. Maybe there was a way to stuff _something_ down Louann's throat.

Very deliberately, she turned and made her way, carrying her tray, over to the staff side of the lunchroom where Dev was sitting, still oblivious to her presence. Normally, contact between staff and clients was more strictly regulated, but nobody was enforcing that these days. "Hey," she said, plopping her tray down on the table in front of him, startling him. He looked up, saw who it was, and moved to let her in. "It okay if I sit here?" Being careful not to actually look, Sam cast a sideways look in Louann's direction. Louann, and the others sitting with her, were sitting, open-mouthed, watching her. At least, they'd stopped laughing.

"Of course, it's alright," he said, moving his bookmark to his current page and closing the book. "How've you been, Sam? I heard you were sick."

"Caught a bug. No big." She fell on her food. Sam had to admit, they fed a body pretty good in this place. But no fried chicken. Damn.

"Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Yeah, me too. 'S bad enough on the outside, where you can kinda take care of yourself. But here it sucks especially hard."

"I can only imagine. I understand you're up for discharge soon?"

She stopped eating for just a moment, looking at him. "Ye-es. How'd you know that?"

"I got the new class roster. You weren't on it. Didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to figure out the good news."

At his mention of the fictional detective, Sam's gaze wandered over to the book he'd been so avidly reading. _I, Claudius._ Huh. That wasn't light reading. "You like that kind of book?"

"I like a lot of different kinds of books. I don't limit myself. What about you? Anything in particular?"

Sam's spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. "Different kinds. I…" She paused a moment. Then, "I really don't read all that much." Now why had she admitted that? And to him, of all people?

He nodded, looking at her. "So. After discharge. What's next for you?"

"My friend Carly has this notion for a web project for school. She wants me in on it. Could be fun. Guess I'll see how it turns out."

 _Hm. There's a hint there…I can catch a glimpse of Carly in the outer edges of Sam's mind, but there's someone else. Someone who poses a…complication to my long-range schemes. Someone I may have to eliminate, if Sam is ever to be truly mine._

 _Who_ _is_ _this Fredward Benson, anyway?_

…

"Sam! It's so good to see you finally out of that place!" Carly greeted her as they met in the lobby. She ran over and caught her best friend in a bear hug. "Your mom couldn't make it, but we'll take you home." Her brother Spencer, and Freddie were there, for a "release" party.

"Yeah, well, it's good to be out. Lemme get my paperwork, an' I'll be ready to go."

At that moment, Devlin came out a side door, obviously heading out himself. "Hey, Sam. Is this your family?"

"Ah, no. Dev, this is my friend Carly. Remember I told you about her? And this is her brother Spencer." Devlin shook hands with Carly and Spencer; he and Spence were almost the same height. "And this is Freddie. That's short for 'Fredward,' by the way."

Freddie groaned. "I thought we weren't gonna go there anymore, Sam."

"Fredward's a perfectly good name," said Devlin, shaking hands with each of them. "And I'm glad to finally meet you, Carly. You've been a great source of strength to Sam. You all have been."

"Devlin's the volunteer basketball coach," said Sam. It might have been Carly's imagination, but it almost seemed like Sam was _embarrassed_ about something. But that didn't compute. Sam? Embarrassed? Since when? "Devlin an' I, we go way back. We first met about six years ago. I clobbered him."

Freddie looked at Dev and grinned. "In case you haven't already figured it out, that's how she _usually_ meets people."

"So I gathered." Devlin shook Freddie's hand, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. _So this is my rival._

 _Take good care of what's mine, human. You don't want to make me angry._

"I'll clobber _you_ , _Fredward_ , if you don't shuddup." She took the envelope that had her papers in it. "Let's blow this joint."

"Sure." Carly turned to Devlin. "Say, Devlin—can I call you Dev? We're gonna go celebrate Sam's release at this place we know, the Groovy Smoothie. Wanna join us?" Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Sam's face. Sam had paled a bit, her eyes darting back and forth, as though seeking escape.

And it dawned on Carly, in that instant: Sam was _embarrassed_ because she was _attracted_ to Dev. But how to politely retract the invitation?

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I can't. I have to meet my uncle downtown for a business conference that he wants me to sit in on. Perhaps a rain check?"

"Oh, uh. Yeah, that'll be okay. Sam? You ready?"

In the minivan on the way back to the Shay residence. "Sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Sam blew out a breath and leaned her head back against the backrest. "You couldn't know. It was just….awkward, is all."

Carly nudged her. "I get the _distinct impression_ that you kinda like him, don't you? As in _like him_ like him?"

"What? No. It's nothing at all like that. It's just…all those years ago, and now, meeting him again. I mean, it's not like…we're not friends or anything, but…"

"Sounds like it to me. C'mon, Sam. So you made a friend while you were in there. It's hardly a mortal sin."

From the front seat, Spencer heard the conversation behind him, and pondered. Dev seemed like an okay guy, yeah. Nothing in particular.

But…

Something about Devlin set off a warning bell in Spencer's mind. He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was that Devlin was a little too smooth, almost too good to be true. He just seemed a little too…too _experienced_ for a dude his age. _Oh, but it's probably just my imagination._

… _.._

 _My home universe: I'm watching Sam and her friends as they drive her home. I really do have a meeting to attend, but I can afford to keep an eye on her._

" _Nephew." I straighten up, turn to my uncle Darien, and bow low, as is fitting for one of his exalted station. "I see your prey appears to be happy." As is usually the case, Uncle Darien seems to find the whole thing amusing. And why not? It_ _is_ _amusing._

" _Yes, uncle. Humans have such primitive ways of dealing with those who revel in their freedom. It always makes me wonder how they ever progressed past the Stone Age."_

 _He stands beside me, the fires behind and around us forming the backdrop for our conversation, with the crystal sphere in front of me displaying the images of Sam and her friends driving home. "You know, I wonder if you are not doing yourself a bit of a disservice. After all, you could have had many souls by now. Yet you seem fixated on this one human girl."_

" _I want her to be my first, uncle. She is certainly worth it."_

" _Hm. That…may be as it is. You are aware of the souls you have passed up, during this time? It hardly seems efficient to reserve space in your collection—which you've not even begun—for one. Think of the others whom you could have." I note that he is being unusually sober and serious, and that concerns me. One cannot rise to his level without a great deal of experience and knowledge. And although I am not of his lofty rank—yet—I nonetheless know enough to know that, if he is taking an interest in the matter, then it is not one I should take in any way but very, very seriously._

" _I know, uncle. But I would still like Sam to be my first. I know that I will acquire hundreds of thousands of souls before expansion death of this universe, but only one will be my first." I turn to him. "I'd like that to be Sam."_

" _Don't wait too long. Remember, you've a responsibility, a duty, that will not wait forever. Remember our purpose, the purpose to which we are given." Were a human to be standing beside me—a physical and metaphysical impossibility—that person would see us silhouetted against the eternal Fires that characterize my home._

 _Only_ _in these Fires can they be safe._ _Only_ _here. Sam, as I and others know her, and as she knows herself, can_ _only_ _be safe, truly and completely safe, Forever,_ _only_ _here._

 _Only_ _when she's mine._

 _But uncle is right. I can't delay much longer. The longer I wait, the more souls that may be lost to the Darkness. Or to the Light._

 _So. Where to meet with Sam again?_

 _And what to do about this Fredward Benson?_

 _To be continued…._


End file.
